


Ebb

by UAgirl



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Language, Romance, Sexual Situations, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-23 07:29:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6109525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UAgirl/pseuds/UAgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Asskicker was a helluva lot more mature than her mama.  In which Daryl makes a promise to Rick, and love knows no distance too great.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So. This is something I've been pecking away at since before I posted either of my other stories, and it's a little different from the others. 
> 
> There are actual walkers. 
> 
> And Daryl is separated from Carol. How and why is still a mystery (to you, dear readers, lol). But, as you read, he's not alone.

Ebb

 

 

xx1xx

 

~*~

 

"Unbeing dead isn't being alive."

-E.E. Cummings

 

~*~

 

Lightning cracked and sizzled across the black sky, thunder chasing closely on its heels and making the entire building shudder. Dusty vases full of wilted flowers rattled with the rolling rumble.

The rebound tugged violently at Daryl Dixon's gut, and he let the heavy drape slip from his grimy fingers, moving away from the window. His crossbow clattered carelessly to the floor as he slid down the trembling wall and stared, for a moment, into the void, listening as the rain started to fall. At first a few staccato drops, the shower soon morphed into a pounding torrent overhead, and Daryl's heartbeat matched the drumming sound as Mother Nature unleashed her pent-in fury on the cruel world outside. He leaned his forearms over his drawn knees and willed his abused heart to slow, his quick pants of breath to deepen and calm. The events of the few hours played on an endless loop behind his drifting lids.

 

xxx

 

The pharmacy over on Main had been a complete crapshoot, not enough antibiotics and too much useless shit like puzzles and fuckin' greeting cards. 

Daryl's pack had still been half empty when the dead came pouring in, shredding themselves on shattered glass, stumbling and shuffling over scattered bottles of shower gel and cans of mosquito repellent. The cloying scents of grapefruit and rot had invaded his senses, and the growls and groans had kicked his adrenalin into hyper-drive. His escape had been a narrow one, a hard fought one, and he'd scrambled from the looted mess into a parking lot that seemed to be teeming with walkers. 

Detritus and debris lined the streets and alleyways of the little tourist town, its fairytale façade broken and virtually unrecognizable in the new post-apocalyptic world. 

It bore little resemblance to the place Merle had once dragged him to for a weekend of German beer, willing women, and biking through the Blue Ridge Mountains. The Super 8 where his brother hooked up with that handsy waitress Wanda or Wynonna was nothing more than a burned out shell, ashes and dust from another lifetime. Daryl wasted no time there, ducking into the Huddle House across the way to briefly catch his breath. His respite lasted but a minute. 

The smell inside the place was overwhelming, rancid and foul. Mold covered plates, crept over syrup-sticky counters. Flies buzzed persistently, and dried, rust-colored blood speckled the tiles. 

Pulling the red rag from his back pocket, Daryl covered his mouth as he inspected the dim space, keeping one eye on the window and the dangers still lurking beneath the leaden sky. He felt his blood run cold in his veins when a bony hand closed around his boot, and the weak rasp of one of the undead joined the eerie cacophony filling his head. 

Scratching and pulling ineffectually at the worn leather, the walker was gaunt beneath the rags of its uniform. Metal brackets and wires coiled across what remained of its teeth, and the cartilaginous rings of its throat were partially exposed. 

Pity swelled and pressed harshly against Daryl's own painful throat, and his hand was gentle as he knelt and wrapped it in the matted tangle of dark hair, using only enough force to keep the snapping jaws at a distance. The fork speared the milky eye with a sickening squelch, and Daryl had to swallow back the sting of bile in his mouth as he rocked back on his heels, forced the rudimentary weapon deeper.

 

xxx

More walkers had come. They always did.

Flushed into the cover of the woods, Daryl had lost most of his pursuers before he'd even reached the bridge. He'd traveled roughly a mile before he saw it: Cherokee Rose Flowers & Gifts. 

Tattered and torn, the sign to the unassuming little shop had been both a beacon when his tired, cramping muscles had wanted nothing more than to give up and a burden to Daryl's oft-buried memories. The glass to the door had given way easily if not completely cleanly, and the dead had shambled by none the wiser, their telltale moans and guttural snarls drowned out by the mournful wailing of the increasing wind.

Opening his bleary eyes, Daryl forced down the unwelcome lump of emotion so effortlessly dredged up by something as simple as a stupid, fuckin' name and struck out a hand, fumbling for his pack and the bounty he'd already gathered hours before.

Flickers of white light illuminated his hastily chosen refuge, brief snatches that painted a connect the dot history of the long abandoned space: sympathy cards and new baby announcements, gift baskets and stuffed toys, candles and clay figurines.

From his opened pack, the pink plush bunny stared up at Daryl with vacant doll eyes that didn't judge as he ripped into the candy with dirty fingers. The chocolate flooded his starving taste buds with all the subtlety of a bomb blast, and he groaned, chewing slowly to savor it. When he was finished, he searched the zippered compartments of his bag until he found his lighter, and a tiny orange flame soon glowed beneath his nose.

The wind outside continued to buffet the walls of his hastily chosen shelter. The tree out front bowed and bent in supplication, its weathered fingers combing through the overgrown grass. Rain fell in steady silver sheets, and the near constant flashes of lightning caught on the glittering shards of shattered glass, the thick drape over the door whipping and swirling in the created draft.

Daryl sighed, and his hands shook as he cupped them around the candle, willing the miniscule blaze to stay strong. The wet fringe of his bangs fell into his eyes as he tended to the ugly scrapes and lacelike beads of dried blood on his balled hand, his lip curled behind his clenched teeth at the sting as he went through the motions. Two days he'd been gone when he'd promised her he'd be back in one. There'd be hell enough to pay for that without worrying the fool woman over a little scratch.

Sometimes, Asskicker was a helluva lot more mature than her mama.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl makes it home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adult language in this chapter. Mild angst.

Ebb

 

xx2xx

 

~*~

 

"A baby is God's opinion that life should go on." 

― Carl Sandburg

 

~*~

 

The rain slowed on the third day, a gentle gray drizzle that dripped from the leaves and dispersed into a fogging mist before it reached the forest floor.

The morning air was cool, crisp, clean—a welcome change from the staleness inside the cabin, and Lori drew in deep, greedy lungful after lungful as she carefully navigated an invisible path through the woods, her boots sinking occasionally and squelching as she pulled them from the damp earth. Birds twittered overheard, and limbs rustled quietly, an encouraging sign, but her right hand never strayed far from the knife at her belt, all too conscious of the dangers that lurked around every corner.

Beside her, Gideon was relaxed, his tail hanging loosely as he cleared a fallen log with ease, his ears perked and alert.

Daryl's continued absence weighed heavily on her mind, but Lori took some comfort in the animal's calmness and allowed her own tight muscles to slacken. Adjusting the cloth sling around her neck, she flitted her hand across the warm bundle cradled against her chest, and a small smile curved her lips when an answering indignant whimper reached her ears.

Long lashes dipped and fanned against apple cheeks, and a small fist wiggled free from the confines of its cloth prison. Bright blue eyes blinked sleepily at her.

"Morning, sweet baby girl," Lori cooed, combing soothing cool fingers through the baby's sweaty strawberry locks as she ducked a low-lying branch. She braced her other palm against the rough bark of a nearby tree when an exposed root caught her off-guard and looked at Gideon askance when he trotted closer and whined. "We're okay. We're fine. Right, Judith?"

The animal whined again, briefly snuffling the tiny toes of the foot that had worked their way free of the sling before resuming his loping stride. He hung back, making his way to the water's edge only when they had emerged from the tree line.

Stepping further out into the clearing, Lori glanced in each direction. Spying nothing of consequence, her gaze drifted to the still crystal waters of the lake, and the brightly colored canoes resting on their sides beside the weathered pier where Gideon waited. Lori felt her throat constrict as she took it all in.

It was beautiful, peaceful, miraculously untouched by the ugliness of the world as it was now.

Cradling her baby girl's head tenderly in her palm, tears pricking and stinging her eyes, Lori reflected on all she had lost since the Turn. Her family, her friends. Her husband, her son. And now? Daryl was two days late. What if… Lifting a hand to her face, she trailed her knuckles beneath both eyes and mustered up another small smile for the baby staring so intently up at her, this one determined. "We're okay. We're fine," she murmured softly. "We'll be just fine. Even if it's just you and me now."

"Givin' me up for dead already?"

The familiar, gravel-laced voice had Lori whirling in place, her heart somewhere in the vicinity of her throat.

Beneath a deep layer of grime and gore, Daryl's tired blue eyes glittered at her. "Seems to be somethin' you do regular."

The gibe held no heat, and Lori let it slide, altogether too relieved to see him. Though she'd made great strides in learning to protect herself since this all began, she wasn't yet ready to forge ahead completely on her own. She wasn't sure if she ever wanted to. The man in front of her had been good to her in his own gruff way, had kept her safe, her daughter safe these past few months. With everyone she loved lost to her, possibly forever, Lori knew she should voice her deep gratitude more often, but that wasn't the way they operated, she and Daryl. The insult rolled easily off her tongue, even as the barest glimmer of fondness shone in her dark eyes. "You look like shit."

With a pained grunt, Daryl let his crossbow slide from his shoulder to the soft ground below, his pack following soon after. "Feel like shit." From his other shoulder, he shrugged off another bag, reaching inside it with a crudely bandaged hand. "Checked the snares."

Lori barely blinked when Daryl offered Gideon a morning treat, and the animal gingerly took the squirrel carcass between its teeth and retreated to the shade of the pier, gnawing on it with relish. A steady diet of the rodents had become an unavoidable fact of their lives, and her stomach no longer rebelled at the acquired taste. She supposed she could label that progress. "Pretty good haul?"

Daryl nodded, tossing another squirrel Gideon's way when he whined and licked his chops in expectation. "Even got a couple rabbits."

Lori's stomach rumbled with remembered hunger, and she patted Judith's bottom soothingly when she wiggled again and began to fret in earnest. "I was just about to check the trap lines."

"Asskicker gonna help you with that?"

Lori's eyes narrowed, and her lips thinned into a straight line of warning, her back stiffening at the undercurrents of stubborn confrontation in his tone. "You? You've been gone two days."

Daryl stumbled forward, his own eyes growing stormy in reaction to her prickly response. "Think I wanted to be gone so long?"

Judith's whimpers increased in volume, and Lori could feel the weight of amber lupine eyes upon her as she bounced her daughter gently in her arms, shushing her with kisses to her damp brow. Instinct told her the animal would rip her throat out with no qualms if he felt she bore even the slightest threat to the baby. Lori found that knowledge equally frightening and reassuring. Only Daryl had proven more protective, and the realization had a sobering effect on her. Her demeanor softened considerably as she lifted shiny eyes back to the man's exhausted face. Her voice laced liberally with apology, she sighed. "We needed food. Fresh air. We couldn't stay locked up forever. If you hadn't come back…"

All the fight seemed to leave Daryl, and he looked away, uncomfortable with her show of emotion. "No need to work yourself up over somethin' that ain't happened. Came back, didn't I?"

Lori's lips twitched with a thankful smile, and she blinked away the tears that threatened at everything he left unsaid. "You did." Silence lapsed between them, and she lifted her face to the sky, where the sun was just beginning to break through the gloom. Letting her eyes drift closed momentarily, she sent up a little prayer of gratitude to a being she didn't pretend to understand anymore. Judith's sudden, sharp wail had her snapping her eyes back open and tightening her arms around the agitated infant.

"Here," Daryl offered, holding out his arms. "Hand her over."

"You're filthy." Lori shook her head, a small laugh escaping her mouth as she eyed him. "Not until you clean up."

"Not like you're much better," Daryl groused, his shoulders slumping wearily.

"This place look like a luxury spa to you?" Lori quipped, earning herself a deep Dixon scowl. "She's just hungry. Aren't you, baby girl?" Daryl paled unmistakably at the revelation, and the smile on her face stretched even wider. Holding out her hand for the bag of game, she motioned toward the lake that looked cool and inviting with a toss of her head. "Clean up, and you two can take a nap together."

Rolling his eyes at her unwelcome teasing, Daryl grudgingly handed the sack over and clicked his tongue at Gideon.

The animal immediately climbed to its feet and stationed itself beside him.

"Take him with you."

Lori pursed her lips and shifted Judith higher with one hand, nuzzling her soft hair as she continued to cry. "Why? He let you sneak up on me."

Daryl stared back at her blankly, clearly unamused or unmoved by her method of protestation. "Knew I weren't no threat." He shrugged, though the movement clearly cost him. "Won't let nothin' happen to Asskicker."

Clearly this was not a fight she was going to win, and Lori decided not to expend precious energy arguing with the man. "Fine. Gideon?"

The animal left Daryl's side, shadowing her as she turned to leave, silent and ever-watchful.

"Can't promise the same for your scrawny ass."

Raising her free hand up above her head, Lori lifted her middle finger in parting salute.

 

~*~

 

Much later, belly blissfully full and chubby arms thrown over her head in abandon, Judith lie peacefully by Daryl's side in the sagging bed, her own rest undisturbed by the dreams that gripped her sleeping companion.

Lori kept watch silently, loathe to intervene. Past experience prevented her from doing so, no matter how much her heart ached to ease his torment in some small way. Instead she remained in front of the curtained window, Gideon dozing nearby, and stared out into the blanket of darkness that had started to descend with the growing hour, only the small yellow flame of the candle in the corner lighting the dim room.

Thick and orange, the candle filled even the darkest corner of the small cabin with the aroma of pumpkin spice.

It was a comforting scent, one that recalled fond memories from a life that was fast fading despite Lori's attempts to keep it near and dear to her heart. Drawing her knees tightly to her chest, she picked idly at her boot laces as she let her mind drift back, to happier times, to before.

That first Thanksgiving together, when everything was still so new—new job, new house, new neighborhood, new baby, was an unmitigated disaster. Nobody realized it then—he still such a tiny, tiny thing, after all, but that Thanksgiving would be the first in a long line of special occasions in which Carl would fall ill. It was uncanny, really, her sweet boy's knack for keeping his parents on their toes. It was just colic, but he was miserable, and nothing could calm him. Absolutely nothing, not even his father, who took every chance available to him to rush home from work and walk the floors with the boy, leaving Shane to cover for him at the station. Whenever Rick would drop in, she'd take the chance afforded her to ready dinner—the biggest turkey she'd seen at the supermarket, ham for Rick's turkey-averse father, stuffing, mashed and sweet potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce, the works. The piece de resistance had been her mama's pumpkin pie recipe, and Rick read the directions out loud to her while pacing from the kitchen to the living room to the nursery back and forth, back and forth. It was hard work, fitting everything in between Rick's callbacks to work and soothing Carl's cranky tears, but she felt accomplished when dinner finally rolled around and they took their places at the table. Daddy said grace at her request and Rick proudly carved the turkey and the ham, serving up generous helpings to everybody. One bite of half-cooked turkey, and the expression on Rick's face said it all. Each dish was worse than the last, and she cried along with Carl as Mrs. Grimes spit her pumpkin pie into her embroidered napkin and gulped down half a glass of water. For years afterward, Rick had teasingly asked her to resurrect her famous cumin pumpkin pie, but she'd just roll her eyes and accept his offered kiss. They never did host another Thanksgiving dinner.

Lori bit back a soft smile as she shifted in her chair, making it creak and wobble in protest. She startled when Daryl's gruff voice shattered her reverie.

"'Sposed to be keepin' watch, not daydreamin'."

"Snoring Beauty awakes," Lori muttered dryly.

"Fuck off," Daryl grouched, carefully creating a pillow fortress around her daughter's tiny slumbering form before crossing the room to stand beside her. He raked a rough hand through his still damp hair, leaving it standing on end, and scratched absently at his chest. He frowned down at the bandage that had started to unravel from his hand.

Uncurling from her seat, Lori stood and matched his expression. "That needs checked."

Daryl pulled back from her when she reached out to him, cradling his hand close to his chest. "Ain't nothin'."

"It's something," Lori insisted as she moved across the room in search of his pack. "Didn't you say you found some more first aid supplies? Least I can do is change it for you." Ignoring Daryl's continued protests, she grabbed the pack in one hand and the candle in the other, quickly returning to his side. Sighing at his obstinate refusal to behave like a normal, appreciative human being, she nudged the toe of his boot with her own. "This'll be much easier if you sit down."

Clearly displeased, Daryl dropped to her abandoned seat but made no move to make her volunteered job any easier. He stared at a point beyond her shoulder as she crouched before him, his blue eyes pointedly shying away from her studied gaze. "Get on with it. Ain't got all day."

As she rifled through his pack, Lori grumbled a response that took them both off-guard. "Carol must have been a saint, dealing with you." Her brown eyes snapped guiltily to his ashen face, and she held in a pained breath, waiting for his inevitable over-reaction. "I'm sorry. Daryl, I didn't mean…we don't know…"

"That's right," Daryl grit out, his entire being shaking with suppressed anger or grief or both. "We don't know shit. So shut your fool mouth."

Lori bowed her head, her long dark hair obscuring her face from his view, not that he was looking. She had the distinct impression his tortured blue gaze was burning a hole through the floor beneath her, willing it to swallow her up. "Rick promised to find her."

"Fuck Rick's promises," Daryl growled bitterly. "They're shit. They mean nothing. Look around. He ain't here. Neither is she. I kept my promise. Where is he?"

Lori felt her eyes grow warm with renewed tears, and she busied herself lining up the scant supplies he'd scavenged, desperately trying not to give in to the despair that lurked within easy reach. Candy, instant hand warmers, and a couple of bars of soap joined the bottles of assorted pain killers, antibiotics, and ointment. Her trembling fingers passed over the stark white bandages in favor of the cheerful pink bunny and lifted it to her face. She ignored the ever-present can of spray paint and tried to take solace in the undisputed fact that, however much he resented her presence in another's absence, he cared for her daughter, loved her even. Softly, she uttered a hoarse reminder that had kept her up many a night even as it comforted her. "He went back for them."

Daryl's quiet reply held much less bite this time. "He went back for Carl."

Shaking her head, Lori struggled to maintain her belief in her husband, her tears soaking the toy's soft pink fur. "He went back for them both."

Daryl made no more efforts to contradict her, but he didn't voice his agreement either. He merely offered his hand for her inspection.

Releasing the stuffed animal from her painful grip and placing it on the floor, Lori took his calloused hand in her own, keeping her touch gentle, light as she worked. From time to time, her attention would drift from the task at hand to the bed where her baby daughter still slept, not a care in her pretty little head because she felt safe, because every day the man that had saved her, the man that had delivered her had kept a promise that had cost him his own chance at happiness. That same promise was both her blessing and her curse, a dichotomy she struggled with every waking day. Rewrapping Daryl's hand, she taped the bandage in place, and her touch lingered as she gathered her thoughts. Finally, she looked up at him with glistening eyes. "You're right. You kept your promise, and it cost you everything."

"You don't know me."

A ghost of a smile flickered across Lori's lips before it melted away altogether, the moment between them too weighted for such an expression. "I know enough. I know you dream about her. You call out her name in your sleep."

Daryl scowled and pulled his hand away, cradling it close to his chest and making himself small.

Nodding toward the can of spray paint, she plowed ahead, her conviction growing stronger with each word. "What's that? Your third? Fourth can of spray paint? Ninety miles between here and Atlanta, and you've been leaving her signs all over the place. A map that would only make sense to her. X's if a place is overrun. Flowers if it's…if it's clear. Ninety miles. No way to know for sure and you're still trying to keep her safe. There's your hope, Daryl. That little girl over there? She's my hope. Don't give up on yours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. 
> 
> I'm not sure who's reading this, but I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I know Lori's not a very popular character in the fandom, but I personally, and I'm sure this has a lot to do with how I was first introduced to this exasperating, addicting show full of flawed characters and wonderful cast members, really enjoyed her. I miss her still. 
> 
> Writing a story with her in it in more than a passing mention has been pretty challenging so far, and I was really pretty anxious to post this. I still am, lol. I hope I don't live to regret this. ; )
> 
> Obviously, Lori in this story is in a completely different place than she ended up at on the show (the big difference...she didn't end up walker chow). Daryl is too. I hope you'll find their journey back to their respective partners enjoyable, and hang in there for the long haul because little tidbits will be sprinkled in future chapters that piece by piece better explain what's going on. 
> 
> This story is most definitely a Caryl story, but early chapters are a little more subtly Caryl than my other two stories. It's also a Lori/Rick story and includes both Carol/Rick interaction and Daryl/Lori interaction. Oh, and I'm pretty sure basically the rest of the cast will show up at some point or another, so I hope you don't mind and are along for the ride. 
> 
> Feedback truly is love. 
> 
> Off to work on my other fics. 
> 
> P.S. The quote at the beginning? I've seen the words world and life used pretty interchangeably. I chose to use life as it seemed to be a little more apt for this story.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is absolute love. 
> 
> Let me know if you're interested in reading more.


End file.
